by Zosia Wand
I slip into Milly’s room. It feels warm and safe. A little pink haven. I kneel on the floor beside her bed and breathe in the warm, cinnamon smell of her skin, her apple shampoo, resting my head on the pillow beside her, comforted by the steady rise and fall of her breath. A soft whistle every time she breathes in, an almost moan as she breathes out. They will take her away. Ruth will comfort her. She will be safe there until another family is found. A better family with a proper mother. I lift the duvet and climb in beside her, feeling like an imposter. She smacks her lips as she shuffles over to accommodate me, unaware of my inadequacy. I curl around her, though I have no right, I press against her back, feel the steady beat of her heart in my own chest. And I fall into a guilty sleep.
*
I wake in the bed alone. Milly has climbed over me and started her day.
I must speak to Neil. I need to find out what’s going on. Descending the stairs is difficult, my legs are weak and I feel light-headed. My phone’s not on the mantelpiece. Mum’s in the kitchen. She’s pulled a chair up to the kitchen counter and is kneeling on it to reach the shelves above. She doesn’t seem to be in any pain, in fact, she seems rejuvenated. She’s taken the plates and bowls down and is wiping the shelves with a damp cloth. Does she think a bit of bleach will clean up this mess?
‘I need my phone.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘Why?’
She hesitates. ‘You don’t want to know.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Gossip. It’s better you keep your distance from all that.’
‘What are they saying?’
‘Not about you.’
‘Neil. They’re talking about Neil? What do they know?’
She gives a little shrug. ‘It isn’t important. You focus on yourself right now.’
I walk through to the living room in search of Milly, but she’s outside in the front garden, playing with next door’s cat. She has a ball of string and is creating jumps, like a miniature gymkhana across the lawn. As I watch I see Dawn turn into our gate and make her way up the path. She pauses and chats to Milly for a moment, discussing the cat, the plan Milly has. She’s good with Milly. She engages with her. She plays with her. Dawn is a proper mother, that’s why she had babies and I didn’t. She can do this; I can’t.
She will be coming to see how we are. News will have got out. Neil will be suspended from work pending the investigation. I know the language from the television dramas we watch on a Sunday evening. My life has become that drama. I go to answer the front door.
*
Dawn sits in the kitchen with her cup of tea. I’m glad Mum’s here. If she wasn’t here I don’t know what I’d do. Mum can handle Dawn. She was right behind me in the hall as soon as she heard the knock on the door. I hesitated, but Mum produced a welcoming smile and bustled Dawn in. Mum isn’t one to hide, she’ll meet this head on.
‘Please, please, make yourself comfortable,’ pulling out a chair, standing over her, making Dawn feel as uncomfortable as possible.
An immaculate white tooth catches her glossed lip. ‘Really, I don’t want to…’
‘Intrude?’ Mum bites. ‘Not at all. Not at all.’ Mum almost shoves her into the chair. ‘It’s nice for someone to show a little concern. My daughter has had a terrible shock. Terrible.’
I hover beside the table, staring at Dawn. Her neck is flushed, her cheeks hot. She was expecting us to be evasive, on the back foot, but not Mum. ‘How do you like your tea?’ All smiles. She looks a bit manic, to tell the truth, but I’m almost enjoying this.
‘However it comes.’
‘It comes any way you like it. It’s so kind of you to drop in. Isn’t it, Evangeline? So kind.’
‘It’s really no – I was just…’
‘Milk?’
‘Please. No sugar. Thank you.’
I’m in the clothes I was wearing the day of the review. I have no idea how long ago that was. My T-shirt is crumpled and I can smell my stale sweat. My hair is matted against my head. I must look like a mad woman.
I slide into a chair opposite Dawn where less of me will be visible. Her face wrinkles with concern. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘What are you sorry for?’ Mum barks. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong.’
My voice is a mouse peeping out of its hole. ‘Does everyone know?’
‘Neil hasn’t been at school. Something to do with the adoption…?’ She waits. Her younger daughter is one of Neil’s sixth formers.
‘They’re doing a final check,’ I say, lamely. ‘Just to be sure.’ She nods. She knows more. Dawn has come to gather the facts. To put the record straight. She is the gatherer of information. She is the source of truth. But what is the truth? What can I tell her?
Mum says, ‘They’re investigating an incident in my son-in-law’s past.’
‘An accusation,’ I interrupt, before she can say any more. We have to continue living in this community. Neil’s job. So much at stake. ‘It’s a procedure. It should all be over in a few days.’ I stretch a smile across my mouth.
‘Well, if there’s anything I can do, just let me know, won’t you?’
What can Dawn do? Spread the word. A rape accusation. Who would have thought? And him a teacher. A head of year. It just goes to show…
‘Thank you. That’s very kind, but I’ve got Mum here.’
Dawn smiles, relieved. ‘Of course. Every girl needs her mum. Lucky you.’
*
The next day, while I watch Milly sitting on the front lawn, chastising Gerry for some imagined misdemeanour, Dawn’s words come back to me: ‘Every girl needs her mum.’ I have barely seen Milly. When she’s awake, I’m asleep, when I’m asleep she’s awake. I don’t have the energy or the will to leave the house. Lizzie will be holding the fort at work. She knows. Everyone knows. Mum seems to have it all under control. Right now, all I want to do is crawl into bed and pull the duvet over my head and hope this all goes away, but I drag myself out of my stupor and head into the kitchen where Mum is sitting at the table doing the crossword. My kitchen looks different. Less cluttered. All the condiments and oils, the tea and coffee and cooking utensils have been put away. The surfaces are bare and gleaming.
‘Shouldn’t Milly be at school?’
Mum gives a little shake of her head. ‘I thought it best she stay home for a while. Under the circumstances.’
‘What does Shona say? Has she talked to Helen?’
‘What do they know!’
‘Helen is responsible for Milly’s well-being!’
‘Does Helen live here? Does she have any idea of the impact of this? You want Milly in the playground with those children and their parents gossiping? Have you heard what they’re saying?’
‘What are they saying?’
‘I’m not going to repeat it. Suffice to say, Milly doesn’t need to hear it. The sooner we get back home the better.’
‘This is my home.’
‘For God’s sake! Your home is Hitchin and always will be. You can’t stay here after what’s happened!’
‘There will be an explanation. He was just a boy.’
‘An adult.’
‘No one is an adult at eighteen. He was only a couple of years older than her.’
‘Three years.’
‘They could have been boyfriend and girlfriend.’
‘But they weren’t.’
‘Do you know that?’
Mum shakes her head, wearily. ‘He raped her, Evangeline.’ The word is brutal as a hammer blow. ‘Face it. She told her father. He wrote a statement.’
‘Did she tell him? If she was raped why didn’t she report it? Why didn’t her parents talk to Betty and Mike? They’re good people. They would have taken it seriously.’ But they wouldn’t have believed it. They would not think Neil capable of this. He’s not capable of this. My fingers rake through my greasy hair, scratch at my scalp. ‘This can’t be happening. Not to us.’
&nb
sp; ‘To him. Not to you.’ She puts her arms around me and pulls me close. My brain is gloopy, my nose full of the sickly smell of rose oil. ‘You’re safe with me. It’s all going to be all right. I know this is awful and I know you’re in a lot of pain right now and if I could take that away from you, I would.’ She steps back to look me in the eye, her hands gripping my shoulders. ‘I wish I could go through this for you, but I can’t, my love.’ Her eyes pool with tears. ‘But I’m here with you. You’re not alone. And you don’t need him. His past is catching up with him, but you’re safe.’
‘Mummy?’ Milly’s voice is a fine thread, lacing through the air between us. She’s standing in the doorway, her face crinkled with concern. This is not how it should be. She shouldn’t be worrying about me.
‘I want Daddy to come home.’
I look at Mum. ‘He’s away with work,’ she says briskly.
‘He’ll be home soon.’ Will he? How can I say that? ‘Listen, darling, why don’t you get those lovely crayons Lizzie bought you and draw me a picture?’
‘Will you come with me?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Can we go to the café?’
Mum snaps back, ‘Don’t be silly! Can’t you see your mummy’s ill?’ Milly glares at my mother and growls. ‘What have I told you about making ugly noises? Now stop this, you’re upsetting your mummy.’
‘I am not! You are!’
‘How dare you!’
Milly looks at me. She holds out her hand. She is a lifeline.
‘Let me get washed and dressed. I won’t be long.’
‘Evangeline, no!’
‘Get your shoes.’
*
It’s a mild day. I have worn too many layers and have to loosen my scarf and unzip my jacket as we walk. I move slowly. The town centre, usually not much more than a five minute walk, seems miles away. Milly holds tightly to my hand, guiding me, as if I am an invalid. The park café would be closer, but I don’t want to go to the park; I can’t face Lizzie right now. And I’ve promised Milly a bag of pick and mix.
The lady in the sweet shop is patient as Milly debates the merits of a humbug over a jelly snake. The snake wins on the grounds of size. She skips out, clutching her paper bag in her fingers. I notice Dawn further up the street and give a weak wave. She hesitates, offers a quick nod and heads off in the opposite direction. She’s clearly had enough of our mad family for one day. I slip into the greengrocer’s to pick up some late raspberries that are on offer. I know the young girl who is serving by sight, if not by name, and we usually share a bit of meaningless banter. I don’t know if it’s me or her, but we’re not in the mood for a giggle today. It’s only when I glance up from putting my purse away and catch the look that passes between her and the woman replenishing the chiller display that I realise they know something. It’s the look of concern they throw towards Milly that undoes me. What exactly do they know? How do they know? I usher Milly out on to the street before she can clock what’s going on.
‘Can we go to the café now?’
The tea rooms are at the end of the high street, but at least it’s downhill. Inside, Kath is sitting at the table by the fire. When the bell over the door rings she sees us and leaps to her feet. ‘Eve! I’ve been so worried about you!’ She hesitates. Milly is watching, head cocked to one side, that puzzled little frown between her brows. ‘I heard you weren’t so good.’
I collapse onto a chair. ‘Who from?’
She hesitates. ‘Your mum came in to the office to explain.’
I tell Milly to sit down and take her crayons from my bag with trembling hands. ‘I’ve forgotten your drawing pad.’
Kath intervenes, ‘Milly, why don’t you go and ask the waitress if she has some paper?’
What has Mum explained? This is a small town. Kath isn’t a gossip, but she will have talked to her husband, to India. Guy teaches at the high school; he’ll know that Neil’s off but does he know why? How much privacy are we entitled to in a situation like this? The kids at school will know something’s going on. Every family in Tarnside will know that there’s been some sort of accusation. Our family. Neil’s career. Our home.
Mum’s right. I may not have an option. I may have to go back to Hitchin.
Milly returns with the waitress, who has found several sheets of printer paper. I sink back into my chair while Kath talks to Milly about her lantern and the red duffel coat. It’s difficult to hold my head up. What will happen to Milly now? How will I live without her? How will I ever get over this? Kath suggests Milly draw a picture of the finale. The waitress takes our order. I have no idea if she asks me what I’d like or if I answer her, but when she returns she deposits a cup of steaming fruit tea in front of me and Kath places a hand briefly on my shoulder.
I knew about the pregnancy and I said nothing. If I’d spoken to Neil we would have talked it through, he would have explained. I would know.
Milly draws crowds of lanterns gathered in the park, the glittering pigs dancing in the air, the burning wolf on the tarn. She concentrates as she draws, pressing hard with the crayons, the tip of her tongue between her teeth. What will happen now? Will they let her stay? Will I be allowed to keep her if I’m alone? Will I manage? Right now, taking care of Milly alone seems beyond me. Will Neil be allowed to see her?
When she’s finished, Milly smooths the picture on the table in front of me and points out a group in the foreground, naming each one. ‘Nanny Bet. Grandpa Mike. Mummy, Daddy and Milly.’
‘You’ve forgotten Grandma.’
She points to a squat figure standing some distance from everyone else, under a tree. Her face is drawn in red. Her mouth is an angry black line.
‘Why have you drawn her all the way over there?’
‘I putted her away.’
I glance up at the door, as if Mum might be there, watching us. Kath looks down at her cup, stirring her tea. I say, ‘Milly, that’s unkind. Your Grandma loves you.’
‘I hate her.’
‘That’s naughty. You mustn’t say things like that.’
‘You don’t like her.’
‘That’s not true.’
Milly looks at me, unconvinced. ‘She maked you sick.’ I hold my breath. The room is stuffy. Kath is listening. ‘I heared you.’ She has heard me in the bathroom. I put my hand on hers. ‘Are you sick?’ The anxious little lines across that perfect forehead; I am responsible for these lines.
She’s waiting for an answer. ‘No,’ I say, as firmly as I can manage. ‘I was upset and very tired, but I’m not sick. Not any more.’
‘I want Daddy.’
*
Exhausted, and unable to face any more pitying looks, afraid that there may be worse – disgust, suspicion – I say goodbye to Kath, who hugs me to her, and take Milly back home, walking hurriedly, head down.
As we enter the kitchen I catch the tail end of a message being left on the landline. Shona’s voice. A click as she hangs up. Mum is standing at the kitchen counter. Milly goes straight to the living room. I hear canned laughter from the television. ‘Was that Shona?’
‘I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention.’
I lean against the kitchen table for support. ‘Why didn’t you pick up the phone?’
‘I had my hands full.’ She’s preparing another beef casserole. The pink meat makes my stomach heave. I press Play on the answer machine. It takes me three attempts to hit the right button with my finger.
‘Hello, Eve. This is Shona. I’m just calling to give you an update.’ Her tone is brisk. I can picture her standing at her desk, tall, competent. Shona, our ally, our friend. What does she think of us now? ‘Neil is cooperating with everything, which is helpful. You’ll appreciate that this changes things.’ A chill breath at my neck. They are going to take Milly away. This family of mine is finished. We have failed the test. Neil has gone. Milly will go and I will be alone. ‘We have a duty to investigate. The adoption order can’t go ahead until we’ve had another review meet
ing to decide what action should be taken.’
Mum gives a loud cluck. ‘These people and their meetings!’
‘Shush! I need to listen to this!’
‘… won’t involve Milly. This will be to discuss issues around you, the adopters. The sooner we can organise this the sooner we can get back on track.’
I ignore the snort from Mum. Back on track. Shona hasn’t given up on us. She still thinks it’s possible.
But what if Neil has gone for good? What if he cannot forgive me? Will things go ahead then, or have I lost Milly too?
A pause. A different tone. Softer. Urgent. ‘Eve, Helen needs to check on Milly. We need to arrange a visit. I’m concerned about you both.’ Mum mutters something beneath her breath. ‘Could you give me a call to arrange a convenient time as soon as possible?’
Mum throws the meat into the hot fat. The pan sizzles and spits. ‘I don’t think so!’
I stand by the telephone, unable to do anything. I should phone Shona back, but I don’t want to have that conversation with Mum listening.
‘Milly wants to see Neil.’
Mum gives a little grunt. ‘Well, she can’t.’
‘I’ll talk to Shona.’
‘She’s not going to let him anywhere near her!’
‘What do you think he’s going to do, Mum? She’s five years old! She’s his daughter.’
‘She’s not, though, is she?’
‘Mum, however much you dislike him—’
‘I don’t dislike him.’
‘Mum!’
‘I don’t. I have nothing against the man. Well, I didn’t, until that statement, but before that I simply didn’t believe he was right for you. He controls you, Evangeline. He’s used to getting his own way. You don’t see it, but I do. You used to be so independent, so ambitious. You wanted to live in the city, live abroad, take part in all the exciting international projects. Do you remember that exchange you had lined up in Berlin? But he stopped you going.’
‘He didn’t stop me. How many times?’ I lean heavily against the table, facing her. ‘I didn’t want to go to Berlin and stay in some stranger’s house. I wanted to travel. Explore. I wanted to be free. Neil understood that. Neil listened to me.’ She grimaces, and in that moment she looks small and mean. ‘He doesn’t control me,’ I continue, emboldened. ‘You did. And he stopped that. And that’s why you hate him.’